


Pearly Gate Crashing

by sourgummyworms



Series: Ineffable Delinqents [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, at least an attempt at humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourgummyworms/pseuds/sourgummyworms
Summary: I always wondered how exactly Michael got those pictures of Aziraphale and Crowley meeting up- and why they hadn't been used up until then? Also, wouldn't it be nice for Aziraphale to have some pictures of him and Crowley around the bookshop?"It should be noted that Aziraphale and Crowley were still drunk out of their infinite celestial minds, and were in no way going to sneak into Heaven and steal a bunch of magic photos like MI6 agents. Luckily for them, Heaven was easy as Hell to break into."





	Pearly Gate Crashing

Aziraphale and Crowley were celebrating in the cozy back of the bookshop. Exactly what they were celebrating had been lost after several hours of celebration drinks. (1)

(1) They had been celebrating Anathema’s house-warming, as she was officially moving to Jasmine Cottage for good. They had been politely kicked out hours ago.

The conversation had flowed easily from one subject to another as it usually did with them, and was now on the subject of household decorum.

“Honestly, Crowley. Your flat has the strangest things in it. Your throne-office chair, the revolving door, not the mention that wrestling statue…”

“It’s stylish. And expensive,” Crowley waved his arms around. “Oh! Have I ever mentioned the-”

“Signed Mona Lisa sketch? Yes, yes you have, dear,” Aziraphale sighed and nursed his glass. “Anathema had photos all over her house.”

“Yes, humans do that. I guess they need them to remember stuff with their bad memory and all,” Crowley noted.

Aziraphale looked around the walls of the shop. “Having some photos around would be nice, wouldn’t it?” He stood up and pointed to some empty space on the walls, although there was not much of it. “Here and here, oh I just wish I had taken some over the centuries.”

“Centuries?” Crowley blew a raspberry. “Cameras haven’t existed that long, you’d only be able to have the recent bits,” He contemplated for a moment as he waved his glass to refill. “What would you want pictures of anyway?”

“Us, of course,” Aziraphale answered immediately, not even looking back as he surveyed more places to hang pictures. (2)

(2) Had he looked at Crowley, he would have seen a face nearly as red as the hair above it.

A thought popped into Crowley’s head. “Angel! At your execution!”

Aziraphale turned back to Crowley. “What about it?”

“I was there!”

“Yes, I know that,”

“They showed me pictures!” Crowley finally got to his point. “Of us when we met up for the arrangement- all throughout the centuries- it was part of the evidence!”

“Pictures? How is that possible?”

“Said it was from the ‘Earth Observation Files’... or something,” Crowley explained.

“Oh, yes I think I remember that. I was always worried they would have pictures of us there and we’d get in trouble,” said Aziraphale.

“Oh, well they did,” Crowley pointed out.

“And they never brought it up until Armageddon?”

“Guess not,”

“Huh,” Aziraphale furrowed his brow.

Crowley watched Aziraphale think before breaking the silence. “Wanna go get em?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Like just take them?”

“I think we have to,” Crowley argued.

Aziraphale thought that was a very good argument. “Alright, let’s do it!” He stood up, a bit wobbly, and began to put on his jacket. Crowley followed suit, and soon they were both out the door giggling their way to the main entrance to heaven.

It should be noted that Aziraphale and Crowley were still drunk out of their infinite celestial minds, and were in no way going to sneak into Heaven and steal a bunch of magic photos like MI6 agents. Luckily for them, Heaven was easy as Hell (3) to break into.

(3) Pun intended.

First of all, there was a ward on the building, but it was meant for humans. It was supposed to allow angels in. Demons, for that matter, too. It was the same entrance to Hell after all. You just took different escalators to get there.

Second of all, nobody recognized the two fugitives. Gabrel had done such a stellar job covering up the botched execution, the angels who did happen to recognize Aziraphale wouldn’t realize he wasn't supposed to be there anymore. As for Crowley…

“Wait!” Aziraphale shouted, flinging his arm out to stop Crowley from marching up the celestial escalator. “You need a disguise!”

Crowley nodded wisely. “Got it, got it. Look like an angel…” He twiddled his fingers while he thought, then snapped. His outfit turned completely white, sunglasses and all. “How do I look?”

Aziraphale scanned him up and down. “Yes. Good. Lovely, dear.” He said, and grabbed his demon’s hand and pulled him up the escalator.

By the time they arrived in Heaven, they were badly trying to suppress their laughter. The two stumbled over each other going nowhere in particular and loudly shushed each other when passing a flock of angels.

“Isn’t that the Earth Principality?” One angel hissed to their coworker.

“Yes, haven’t seen him around in a while. Who is that with them, though?”

“Dunno, but they're gonna get a dress code violation from Gabriel any minute,” They sighed. “Oh no, he’s seen us,” They began to shuffle the other direction.

Aziraphale noticed the other angels and brightened up in recognition. “Hello Nanael, Imamiah! Nice to see some other principalities!”

The two politely nodded. Aziraphale squinted, trying to remember what he was supposed to be asking. Crowley spoke up instead. “Hey, you two know where the Earth observation files are kept?”

Nanael looked at the strange angel suspiciously. “Who, may I ask, is asking?”

“You MAY ask who’s asking!” Crowley affirmed. “I’m… ᶜʳᵒˢʰᵐᵖʰ…” He mumbled.

“Pardon?” Nanael asked.

“ᶜʳᵒˢʰᵐᵖʰ” Crowley maintained. Not wanting to be impolite, Nanael politely nodded again.

“It’s um, just down that way. Third dimensional doorway to the left,” They pointed.

“Great!” Crowley turned, now pulling Aziraphale along.

“Nice to see you!” He piped, waving as he stumbled down the hallway. Nanael stared in surprise as they left.

Imamiah smiled a bit and waved back. “Seemed nice enough, if I see him again, I might ask where on Earth he got those sunglasses.”

Eventually, they made their way to the file office. Pushing their way through the door, Crowley and Aziraphale found an infinitely vast room covered in shelves of files. Sneaking (4) around, they soon found a single desk in the room. At the desk sat a frazzled looking angel engrossed in some photographs.

(4) Or, at least trying to.

“Um, hello,” Aziraphale tried. The frazzled angel whipped her head up, eyes widening.

“What do you want?” She huffed.

“Well, we were looking for some phogrot- photographs,” Aziraphale started.

“Photos? Could you be a little more specific?” The angel asked. “That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

Crowley chuckled. “I like this one. Reminds me of you talking to your customers.”

Aziraphale glared at Crowley, but returned to the other angel. “Um, yes. Any photos that include me and the demon Crowley,” He said. “No particular reason.”

The angel sighed and turned to a keyboard. “And your name?”

“Aziraphale.”

The angel quickly typed in their names, sighing like it was the most difficult task she had ever done. “Here we are. Hundred fifty-three photos over six thousand years,” she declared. “Which ones do you want copies of?”

“All of them!” Crowley and Aziraphale shouted in unison. With an eye roll and another click, a thick stack manifested on the desk in front of them. Crowley yanked the papers into his arms and rifled through them with Aziraphale in wonder. Aziraphale stopped from flipping through the pictures to look back at the angel. “Thank you so much,” He almost whispered.

The angel looked up again, cheeks blushing from the thanks she had never been given before. “Uhm, yeah. Don’t mention it.”

“These are brilliant! Did you take these photos?” Crowley asked.

“Sort of. I just save everything of note that happens on Earth,” she explained. “Not much of it goes to use, though.”

“I never really knew all of this was saved here. Maybe I can come back and look through it,” Aziraphale mused, looking around the room. “That is, if it’s alright with you, dear girl?”

“Yeah, I guess,” the angel smiled. “I-I’m Pravuil, by the way.”

“Nice meeting you, Pravuil, but we’ve got to get going,” Crowley shoved the photos in his jacket. “Come by the bookshop some time, you look like you could use some downtime.”

Pravuil watched as the two strange angels stumbled back out the door, wide grins on their faces.

“That was easy,” Crowley laughed.

“Yes it was,” Aziraphale agreed. “Now, to buy some frames!”

~

The next day, they woke up on the floor surrounded by pictures, photo frames, and way too many empty bottles.

“What… happened last night?” Crowley tried to lift his head but Aziraphale was still laying on top of him.

“Hold on, let me get rid of my hangover,” Aziraphale grunted, then slowly got up, surveying the scene around him. “Oh my, we actually did it.”

“We did,” Crowley agreed. They looked at each other in silence before bursting out laughing.

The rest of the day was spent reminiscing and hanging the photos on the walls. A few were placed in the Bentley for Crowley to bring back to his flat, too. The pictures were all candid, but nearly every single one of them captured the two subjects with smiles on their faces.

Whenever customers asked about the strange pictures, Mr. Fell would tell them they were from costume parties. If Adam or Anathema or Madame Tracy came by to visit, they could hear what had happened that day at the globe theater, or in that speakeasy in the 1920s. Even Crowley had to admit the pictures were helpful in jogging his memory. He hadn’t thought about that one time in Constantinople in centuries. Aziraphale would often pause from a book he was reading to look up at a picture that the story had reminded him of.

Eventually, a frazzled girl nervously walked into the bookshop, with a thick briefcase in one hand. She quietly marveled at the library of knowledge and record-keeping that was the bookshop, before handing over the briefcase. Inside were even more photographs- Aziraphale chatting with Oscar Wilde, Crowley holding a five-year-old Warlock on her hip, even some from the day of Armageddon.

She thanked them for making her job a bit less miserable over the millenia, and returned to Heaven.

Looking through the new photos took Aziraphale and Crowley nearly all night, and a couple of vintage wines.

“You know, we really should return the favor to her,” Aziraphale said. Crowley raised his eyebrows.

“Why not now?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, but Crowley was already pulling him up. “Come on, angel! Nobody’s ever party-crashed Heaven twice!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!
> 
> I picked the other angel's names from wikipedia- Pravuil is a recordkeeper, and the other two are principalities.


End file.
